Author: Staff

Jelly Belly knew the magic of bones. He kept a wishbone in a small drawer knowing someday he’d need that saved wish. But tonight he needed greater bone magic.

Someone tossed another pine log into the campfire. Long tongues of fiery flames licked high in the black, Idaho night sky. Orange and red shooting sparks floated toward the bright stars.

“Tell the one about The Bone Monster,” Piccolo Pete said. Piccolo was one of Jelly Belly’s many good imaginary friends. Piccolo poked a slim stick in the deep red – almost blue – embers. The end of the long stick ignited. He slowly pulled it out and blew out the long flame. The white smoke curled.

“I don’t know a story of any Bone Monster,” Jelly Belly said. He wanted a fun stick to poke in the fire, too.

“Sure you do,” Piccolo said, “Only brave and strong people tell it.” All-the-Pete’s were staring at the squirming Jelly Belly.

“I don’t remember,” Jelly Belly said with a shoulder shrug. He looked at the dark ground. Here was a stick but it was too short for comfort. He might singe his fuzzy fur holding it.

“Well then. I’ll tell it,” Piccolo said. He gazed upwards, “It was a dark night like this one – and not-so-far away …”

“But the stars are out tonight,” Pete Moss said. He was Piccolo’s brother. He pointed at the wide sky. Piccolo glared at him for interrupting the story so soon over mere trivialities.

“Yes. A dark night. With a few stars,” Piccolo began again, “But dark enough – you couldn’t see too well – and no fire.” He glanced at Moss who nodded in approval.

“The kind of night when the Bone Monster was most likely to appear – and appear he did.” Piccolo paused, raising his eyebrows and faking a smile.

“You didn’t tell us what the Monster looked like. You know. All made out of bones and such.” It was Ree Pete – another brother – interrupting this time.

Piccolo was indignant. He folded his arms and perused the twinkling stars. Someone broke the moment of awkward silence.

“The Bone Monster’s made of bleached bones of dead forest animals. Their bones dried white in the sun. And then they join the huge monster’s body like magic. Made entirely of bones,” Peter the Great – yet another brother – said. He stood posing. He swallowed down a choking throat-lump after speaking and then weakly smiled. His knees went wobbly and he plopped down again. Feigned bravery.

Piccolo glared at “The Great” with a capital “G.” He shook his head.

Jelly Belly tossed his found short stick into the scorching fire. It delightfully flamed. He didn’t want to hear this unpleasant story. His imagination was too big. He thought about covering his ears and closing his eyes. But that wouldn’t be a courageous example. He too swallowed a lump in his throat and made a weak smile at Peter the Great for being so brave.

Everyone glanced back and forth at each other. It really was too scary already.

“What does it …,” Jelly Belly started to ask.

“Eat?” Piccolo finished, “Why – it eats …” He swept his arm at them all – pointing his finger with drama, “your – imagination!” He brought his sweeping finger to his temple and stopped. He nodded.

Horrified, Jelly Belly knew no one had a bigger imagination than he did. If the Bone Monster was looking for a midnight snack, Jelly Belly’s imagination was best. That was it. Jelly Belly was leaving. He jumped up.

“I just forgot. I need to let the cat out,” Jelly Belly said. And he started stomping off into the blind dark.

They all knew Jelly Belly had no cat – but said nothing.

As Jelly Belly advanced slowly on the darkening trail, he heard a funny noise. At least on any other night, it would have been funny. But tonight it was not. Much like the rattle of a wooden wind chime; or dead tree branches scraping together, it made a clattering sound. But the cool air was still with no breeze. Jelly Belly waited fidgeting to control himself. He held his breath and listened hard. He heard nothing.

That was all he needed. Hearing nothing scared him just as bad as hearing something. He broke out in a bouncy gallop.

“It’s just my imagination,” he repeated over and over. But that was his mistake. For that was what the Bone Monster had come for. It would gobble up his entire imagination. The bigger his imagination grew the more and faster the Bone Monster would chase him.

With this realization, Jelly Belly halted. He imagined the hot breath of the Giant Bone Monster whooshing straight down his skinny neck. He shivered. Jelly Belly’s panicked mind raced searching for a hopeful escape. But his body couldn’t budge – frozen in place immovable as a heavy pond stone.

Focusing his mind with all his might, Jelly Belly conjured in his imagination a pack of hungry hounds. Big dogs, little dogs, in-between dogs. First just a few and then a thousand hungry dogs swarming forward and surrounding him. His puny body fell to the ground face down and lay motionless as the spill of dogs brush racing by. Hands over his head, Jelly Belly heard the imaginary, silent dogs baying and growling. They circled the huge, unseen Bone Monster round and round. Jelly Belly couldn’t look squeezing his eyes shut tight. He was so afraid his imagination wouldn’t be strong enough.

But it was.

He peeked out. The dogs were gone. The bone Monster was gone. Every dog taking an imaginary bone and running off to bury it as all imaginary dogs do.

“I made it,” Jelly Belly whispered. He lay on his back for a restful moment sprawled under the stars. His breathing slowly returned to a steady rhythm.

He imagined a flower. A nice yellow one. With a long green stem. His imagination was still intact. The Bone Monster didn’t eat it. It felt good to be alive.

Elated Jelly Belly ran back to the campfire. But all his Pete-friends were wildly running over the hill. They had seen the Bone Monster rushing into the firelight. It was Jelly Belly, of course.

Jelly Belly laughed. And sat alone near the warm fire. He lit a long stick. Fearless.

IT WAS SUMMER. Yet, her body was stiff and cold. A few police guards stood solemnly at the crime scene. The victim deposited face down on a marble floor; struck dead from behind. This is how a man snuffs out a woman, Lissette thought. The prey was Glenda Canon, a billionaire’s 25-year-old daughter. Her wet hair was still tousled. Rigor mortis was stiffening the body. She wore a short bathrobe and not much else. Fresh from the bath, not a very glamorous way to die for someone so snobbish, thought Lissette.

Lissette Zeller squeezed the mean thoughts out of her mind. A good investigator was analytical, not a social commentator, she recited in her head.

Lissette Zeller

Lissette was clothed in the customary dress for detectives on the force. Her camel hair blazer contrasted with her navy-blue pleated skirt; almost a schoolgirl’s uniform – except for the black stiletto high-heels. Too high for comfort, Lissette’s black spike heels were a statement of her unmistakable hunger for male attention. In her late twenties, her shape was graceful and attractive, a Looker who couldn’t find Mister Right.

“Earl, come here. Take a note of this,” Lissette said. Earl Gressi was Lissette’s superior and her investigative partner. She didn’t enjoy male bosses, but Earl was more opened-minded than many. A stuffy middle-aged bachelor, he appeared clumsy compared to Lissette’s light shape. They both wore the same status of clothing except Earl wore blue slacks and black penny loafers. Lissette hated it when his apparel colors matched hers. It was as if he deliberately was embarrassing her. The truth: they both just had small wardrobes.

Earl Gressi

“What’d ya find?” Earl asked. He pushed his large glasses up with one finger.

“Look. The victim’s only got nail polish on one hand,” Lissette replied.

Lissette knelt down by the bed and lifted the dust ruffle. Peering under, she came to a quick conclusion: Glenda definitely had a maid. The floor was spotless. Not a single dust bunny.

“Nothing under here,” Lissette said, “I’Il check the balcony.”

When she stood up, it was apparent the men in the room were all staring. She chuckled. She relished this startling power she felt – as always. The men shifted their gaze – sheepish. Earl frowned and shook his head. Lissette clacked elegantly across the hardwood floor knowing the “boys” were still secretly gawking.

She stepped outside and eased off her suggestive performance by slipping off her shoes. I should be so lucky as to have a balcony, she thought, there I go again: more class envy. The balcony was gray cement railing with a black-and-white marble floor. Plants garnished the ends. Fake plants, she noted. There was no green fingernail polish bottle on the balcony but there was polish remover. It lay tipped over on a round cast iron table. Yet no nail polish.

“Earl, do you have your field glasses with you?” the barefoot Lissette shouted.

“You know I always do, Zeller.”

“Well, be a dear. Loan them to me for a moment, please?” Lissette said in her most honeyed voice.

Scowling, he tossed the battered glasses to her from the balcony door. She caught them and feigned slipping them over the edge.

“Hey! Careful We’re on the top floor!” Earl was always nervous about loaning his things. Lissette enjoyed playing on his paranoia. She pushed back her dark shoulder-length hair from her face. Peering through the field glasses she scanned the grass and concrete far below in the courtyard. Something gleamed in the grass.

“Earl, I need your help.”

He popped his head out from behind the sliding glass door. He had a quizzical and astonished look.

“I suppose you want me to fling myself down and retrieve my demolished field glasses.”

“Nothing of the sort. I need you to go down the elevator. Then retrieve whatever is glinting in the grass there. Do you see it?” She pointed down. He stepped over, took the glasses and peered down.

“All right. There is a reflection. You keep looking for more clues.”

“Of course,” Lissette said, “I’ll be looking for a brick to throw when you’re on the lawn.”

He glared at her and left. Lissette went back into the apartment and reclined on the couch. She was tired. Her five foot six inch frame fit perfectly on the soft leather couch. She ignored the ugly corpse on the floor and the few silent guards. After awhile, Earl return from the courtyard. He was out of breath and perspiring. He stopped walking the instant he saw Lissette. His mouth dropped open in disbelief. Lissette was asleep on the leather couch. Earl paled.

“Zeller! Wake up!” Earl shouted, “The elevator’s out of order. I’ve been hustling my fanny off for you – and you’re sleeping!”

Lissette yawned and stretched. She’d known the elevator was on the blink.

“This is a great couch,” Lissette said, sitting up, “Would you like to try it?”

“I can’t believe you. I’ll report you one of these days for your insubordination!”

“Such a frightening word. Earl, does it mean you want me – to submit to you?” she said in a throaty voice. Lissette tilted her head back, shook her dark-red mane, and smiled. Earl blushed at his visible excitement.

“Please! Stop! Don’t even elude to such notions, Zeller! Forget I said anything at all.”

Slowly without a word, Lissette stood up – too close for Earl’s comfort. Earl floundered gulping air. His breathing rhythm was off.

“Don’t you dare… ,” He glanced around to see no one was observing. Earl hiccuped.

Lissette grinned. Earls hiccuping was merely applause verifying Lissette’s charms. Such a risky game she played with poor Earl’s nervous system.

The coroner was preparing the body for removal. A dull thump sounded when he moved the corpse to the black body bag. Earl and Lissette both cringed. “What did you find in the garden? The nail polish?” Lissette said.

“No. This.” Earl held out his hand. He clutched a plastic sample bag containing a large silver-ladle. A tag dangled from it marked ‘Evidence’.

“Fantastic. Did it fall from the balcony?”

“Because of the distance, better said, tossed. The deceased name is engraved on the handle.” The large knob at the end was bloody.

“Who cares about nail polish? We’ve got the murder weapon. This thing has fingerprints all over it.” Earl’s hiccups were disappearing with his growing irritation.

“But no suspect and no motive?” Lissette raised an eyebrow and produced a coy smile.

“You are so arrogant sometimes,” Earl said. She said nothing, but turned and sashayed out of the apartment. She jogged to exit ahead of the men removing the cocoon body bag. Earl shook his head. He’d let her take off this time – again. They both knew nothing more could be done until after the coroner’s report. Still, her smugness ate at him. Lissette was so beautiful but such a prankster.

NAILED Scene Two. Day One PM, Homicide Division.

Lissette Zeller

IT WAS LATE NIGHT. The office was silent and empty. Lissette stared at the coroner’s report. She rocked her chair back dangling her shapely legs. She stretched and flexed, exercising her sore calves. Accursed heels, she thought. A low cough sounded at her side. She dropped the report and grabbed the hidden pistol from under her desk and spun the chair around. Her gun barrel pointed at a man she didn’t recognize.

“Not so fast,” he said, with both hands in the air, “I only cleared my throat to let you know I’ve been … waiting.”

“Who let you in?” She took note of his motorcycle boots, faded blue jeans, long white hair, and black leather jacket. He looked like a mugger’s twin. Gaging his age, Lissette put him near death. Suspicious fellow.

“I’m from downtown. Here. My badge and I.D.” He reached in his bulging coat pocket. Lissette instantly cocked the gun hammer. He stopped motionless. Slowly he pulled out a leather wallet and flicked it across the floor to her bare toes. She left the wallet on the floor and flipped it open with her foot.

Eli Temple

“You’re agent Eli Temple? Have we met before?”

“Lots of women ask me that. Can you put down the forty-five magnum?”

She kicked the wallet back to him. Lissette released the trigger and eased the hammer slowly back to it’s metal home with a soft tap. He knows his weapons, she thought.

“Is sneaking up on women, when they’re alone, your routine?” Lissette asked. He stooped to pick up his I.D.

“Not armed ones … you caught me off guard,” he said. He evidently had been there awhile giving her the once over more than once. Lissette sneered. Slime. She didn’t like him.

Lissette scowled. This guy’s a jerk. I gotta get rid of him, she thought.

“On who’s authority were you assigned to my case?” Lissette asked.

“By the Chief. I’ve my orders from the top. You can be reassigned if you like?” Eli said.

“Not a chance, Temple.”

“Good. Let’s get to work.” Eli, uninvited, pulled up a chair.

Lissette, sulking, dropped her gun with a resounding thud on the desk top. A not-so-subtle reminder who’s turf Eli was invading.

“You’ve got the Coroner’s report?” Eli said.

“Sure. Here. Help yourself,” Lissette retorted. She tossed the report into his lap. Eli stared at her a moment and picked up the report. After perusing the summary, Eli spoke, “Was she married or living with a man?”

“No,” she replied. “An immaculate conception, I suppose.”

“So it appears. The report said the victim was three months pregnant.”

“Diplomatic? Okay, fine. I’ll be diplomatic. You’ll see,” Lissette said. Inside she was fuming. She should’ve shot Eli when she had the chance. Eli tossed the report on the desk and left. When he reached the door, he turned and said, “See you tomorrow … Diplomat Zeller.”

The door clicked shut behind him and resonated in the emptiness. Lissette winced.

“Jerk!,” she blustered. She dreaded tomorrow already. She picked up the phone and punched some buttons.

LISSETTE KNOCKED AGAIN, only louder, on the third story door marked #308. She was growing restless. Finally Earl cracked the door and looked out.

“It’s me. Open up,” said Lissette. “Gimme a minute, Zeller,” Earl replied and closed the door.

Lissette could hear Earl talking to an upset female. The door popped open and a young woman exited quickly. She was pretty. She sniffed at Lissette. Lissette stood, her mouth wide open in surprise, not knowing what to say. The thought of Earl entertaining ladies never occurred to her.

“Did I interrupt something? Something … personal?” Lissette asked.

“Of course you did. But you sounded desperate on the phone, Zeller. We are partners, you know. Come on in.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t even check the time before I called,” Lissette said. She walked through the door in a daze.

“See. You were upset. It’s 2 AM.”

“You’re joking.”

“No joke.”

“Do you frequently have women at your apartment at two in the morning?”

“Seems that way tonight … you’re number two.”

“Earl, there’s a side to you I didn’t realize existed. You don’t even have hiccups.”

“What side do you mean?”

It was Lissette’s turn to blush for once. “I’ve flirted, flaunted and taunted you. I’ve been cruel.”

“Yeah. You’re very cruel. But you’re not here for psychotherapy. You’ve come to ask me about Eli Temple. Right?”

“How did you know?”

“Chief called me earlier tonight. Asked how long since I’ve … vacationed.”

Lissette plopped herself on the couch. It was old, worn, and still warm from it’s recent occupants.

What was Temple doing at 2 AM in the station? She wondered.

“Earl, I don’t know what to do? I want to solve this case but I hate this creep Temple. What should I do?”

“Use your extraordinary secret weapon: your femininity. It’s worked before. You got me to climb down and up all those flights of stairs today.”

“Oh, Earl. I wasn’t your … motivation … to do that.”

“Sorry, Zeller. But it’s true. If you were a man, I’d have told you to fetch it yourself.”

She sat thinking. “You’re right. Being female gives an incontestable power over men,” Lissette stated.

“Well, use what God blessed you with to your best advantage.”

Suddenly, glass shattered all over the carpet. At the same moment, the window drape bloomed out. Earl slumped over. Lissette scrambled to the door in time to see a tan four-door speeding away; an unmarked patrol car. Eli was curled in a ball on the floor. His breathing labored.

“I don’t think … I’m gonna … make it this time,” Earl said.

“Oh, quit the dramatics. You’ll be fine.”

The slug had punctured Eli’s right lung. Lissette picked up the phone and pressed 9-1-1. Why would a cop try to kill my partner? Or were they gunning for a different target? … me.

NAILED Scene Four – Day Two AM

THE SPEEDING AMBULANCE. “Where am I?” Earl wondered out loud.

“You’re in the back of an ambulance being rushed to County Hospital,” Lissette responded. She was bored already.

She punched his bandaged wound. Earl blacked out from the pain. Consequently, their conversation ended.

“I am cruel,” Lissette muttered, “but I’m just being … honest.”

NAILED Scene Five- Lissette’s Apartment. Day Two. Noonish.

SHE DRUG HER weary bones to the bathroom. Lissette’s bladder could explode any minute. She was up all night with Earl arranging guards for his room. The guards were people on the force who she trusted with Earl’s life. Maybe not her own, but definitely Earl’s.

She flushed the toilet. Time to change the roll again. Bother.

Lissette Zeller

“Oh, look. What a mess,” Lissette frowned at her reflection in the mirror. She examined the circles under her eyes. She shook her mane. Bummer, sleeping in my good clothes again, she thought, lipstick and mascara smeared in odd places.

“A long, warm shower’s what I need,” she muttered. She stripped and tossed her clothes out on the unmade bed. Circling in front of the mirror, she complimented her saccharine physique. She leaned over the sink checking her eye corners for telltale signs of crows-feet. Lissette posed with her hair pulled up on top of her head. Alas? No genuine man to praise her beauty; she could only enjoy the luxury of private narcissism.

Adjusting the shower temperature, Lissette stepped into the tub and slid the frosted glass closed after her. It felt good to get clean. She enjoyed the invigoration of the tiny water droplets pulsing against her. Even with spraying water reverberating off the hard shower walls, Lissette startled as the front door snapped shut. Jimmied! She sucked in a quick breath. Leaving the water running, she stepped instantly out. Fast, Lissette lifted the cover off the toilet tank. Taped inside was a loaded pistol for emergencies. As she gripped the gun, Lissette felt a change over her wet skin. Someone was blocking the air flow through the open bathroom door. She spun around gun raised. A spinal-chill spread goose bumps over her soapy body.

“That one was for breaking and entering!” she shouted. She cocked the weapon again. “And, this bullet is for being a Peeping Tom!”

“No! No!” he yelled.

Lissette kicked Eli’s head against the hard tub. He lay unconscious. She kicked him again for good measure.

“I should’ve shot you last night, pervert!”

His body twitched but the old boy stayed out, stone cold. She put the Pawnshop Special back in the toilet tank, found a warm robe, and dialed 9-1-1 once again.

What was he trying to find in my apartment? She wondered. “The nail polish?”

Lissette thumbed through a glamor magazine as she gave her address, name, and other particulars. Lissette finally was permitted to say, “A stranger broke into my apartment. He’s wounded and needs medical attention. Send an ambulance, please.” While waiting for the ambulance, Lissette emptied all of Eli’s pockets. Eli Temple remained senseless.

NAILED Scene Six- Homicide Division. Day Two P.M. Fourish.

LISSETTE WAS AT THE DOOR to welcome Anita Maria Rodriguez del Aguila. Anita wasn’t what Lissette expected in a maid. Anita was tall, fit, and stately. She was the kind of woman Lissette immediately disliked. Anita was beautiful. Her brown skin and brown eyes with long black eyelashes made Lissette stare to determine if they were all real. She wondered if the rest of her equipment was real, too. Anita wore a flowing pastel summer dress.

“Hello, Anita, thanks for coming down. I know these are difficult times for you,” Lissette uttered with an icy voice.

“Yes. Who knows what will become of me?” Anita said.

Give me a break, Lissette thought, this gal’s got whimpering down to a science.

Anita Maria Rodriguez del Aguila

Anita stood in front of the bright glass door. Lissette smiled. Anita had neglected wearing a slip under her now translucent dress. In front of a really bright light, the Empress’s clothes were absolutely transparent! Such a wicked thought.

“Come on back to the conference room. It’s a little quieter and private,” Lissette said. Lissette observed the “Maid’s” body language. Anita had been in a police station before. Lissette led Anita through the bullpen full of noisy male detectives. Some discretely glanced out the corner of their eye. But, most heads spun. Anita was the focus of lecherous attention.

Let her be the star, smirked Lissette. Lissette stopped in front of the floor length glass window. The blazing sun was streaming in. “Could you wait right here?” Lissette asked, “Maybe you’d like something to drink?”

“Oh, this warm sun is so great. Don’t you think?” Anita asked. Lissette noticed the fragrant perfume Anita was wearing. It was almost intoxicating. They both stood there soaking in the rays and watching the motion of traffic.

”I’m sure many here really enjoyed the sun this afternoon,” Lissette responded, “Come on this way.”

Lissette sat at the conference table next to Anita. Lissette watched her for a moment.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Anita asked. She fidgeted with a paper clip on the table.

“Did any men ever visit Glenda?”

“You want the name of the father of Glenda’s unborn child?” Anita said.

Lissette raised an eyebrow. “So. You knew about the pregnancy?”

“Yes, Glenda confided in me.”

“Really. What was your relationship like with Glenda.?” Anita paused her paper clip fidgeting and smiled. “Are you asking if I prefer women to men, Detective?”

“No. That’s not what l … ” Lissette stammered.

Anita smiled.

Lissette choked.

“We’re you involved with Glenda?” Lissette asked.

“Yes,” Anita said, “But, I’m not the father.” She grinned.

She suckered me, thought Lissette. She smoldered and held it in. “Did she ever tell you who the father was?”

“No. She was pretty secretive about that.”

One of the security boys appeared to deliver the video. Lissette nodded a thanks when he set it quietly on the table. Anita stared at it wondering if it contained something important.

“Stranger things happen,” Lissette said with a straight face. “Did he ever stay the night?”

“Sometimes.”

“I think you’d best give a complete description of Glenda’s father.”

“You think he might not really be her … father?”

Lissette weakly smiled and said, “One can hope.”

“Well, he’s medium build. He has long white hair. I don’t know his age, but he looks oldish, you know. He always wears a beatup, black leather jacket …” Anita recited.

“Wait. Did you say, ‘leather jacket’? Did you ever hear his name?”

“Glenda called him by name occasionally. He always got mad about it.”

“One last question before we look at evidence on this police video,” Lissette said, “Did you ever have intimate relations with Eli Temple?”

Anita’s mouth dropped open. “How’d you know his name’s Temple?”

“I ask the questions. Could you respond to my last one?” Lissette asked.

“I want to see my lawyer before I answer any more questions.” Anita folded her arms across her first-rate torso.

I’ve read this body language before: End of Interview. I hit a nerve, thought Lissette.

“Anita, you’ve been very helpful. We’ll save this video for court. By the way, this place could use a maid. Think about it. Here’s my card. Call if you think of anything else,” Lissette said. Anita got up and left in a hurry.

She’s a maid? Right! More like gold-digger, thought Lissette.

Lissette picked up the video. I guess we’ll watch this at the annual Christmas party, she thought. She inserted the cartridge into the conference room video player. The video appeared on screen. There were the gawking men. The camera switched to what they were staring at. There was Anita in her transparent summer dress. Her silhouette, a beautiful curvaceous body and smooth, slender limbs. The camera focused on a small twenty-two caliber firearm taped to the inside of one lovely thigh.

Lissette eyes opened wide. That hussy. Then appeared Lissette in an even more transparent straight white skirt. The camera lens moved in for a closer view. Her video image leaned toward the window. Lissette held her hand over her mouth in disgust. Oh, save me! The close up revealed brilliant sun lighting Lissette up like a spotlight. Lissette laughed at herself, “Wait ’til Mr. Hiccup sees this.” The camera panned across toward pretty Anita. Her fine hand and fingers filled the screen. Her long green metallic fingernails glittered in the sun. Lissette jumped up knocking over her chair.

“The nail polish! Anita, you tramp!” she exclaimed, “She’s got the stuff.” Lissette ejected the cassette. Damn, she thought, how could I miss those green nails while interviewing her? I was distracted by her mental jousting.

Lissette wandered sleepily toward the bathroom. She always started an investigation in the bathroom. It revealed so many personal details about the victim. Stuff you couldn’t find elsewhere. The emergency call came from a neighbor who heard gun shots. Shots most likely from Anita’s twenty-two.

Lissette stepped in and flicked on the bluish florescent light, the bathroom was jumbled. Pill bottles, cosmetics, toiletries everywhere … and lots of fresh blood.

“Hey! Joey!”‘ Lissette yelled at the photographer, “Get in here quick.” Geez, whoever trashed this place was wounded pretty bad, Lissette thought. Joey poked his head through the doorway.

Joey, Crime Photographer

“Wow! Gross!” Joey exclaimed. It was his first commentary of the morning. He, too, woke from deep slumber.

Joey is a sicko, Lissette thought, he enjoys his nauseating job, too much.

“That ought to do it. I’ve got to shoot a few more facial-wound close-ups on the mark,” Joey said and vanished back into the bedroom.

This mark had a name, Joey. It was Anita. Lissette scanned the room; poking things around a bit with her traditional black stiletto high-heels. She yawned. No green metallic nail polish. Lissette paused staring at the white toilet tank. She slowly lifted the cover and peered inside.

There was a six-shooter taped in the tank. She shuddered and fumbled the heavy lid. It shattered on the floor. Joey came running.

“What happened?” he panted. Lissette stood there one hand spread on her throat as if voiceless. “There’s … there’s a … gun in the toilet,” Lissette croaked.

Joey stared at her confused.

Fright-tears spilled from her eyes. “She never made it … to the gun. She was pulled back – into the bedroom.”

Lissette’s finger tips were blue and numb from the shock. “Anita was a cop …” Her circulation was tightening up involuntarily. The intense reaction strangled her breath. “… like me,” she weakly whispered.

Joey walked over as if approaching a bomb. He peered into the tank. Lissette’s unexpected and odd behavior was spooking him.

“So? What’s the big deal? A gun. We’ve seen guns before,” he puzzled.

“She was a cop,” Lissette mumbled. Dazed.

“Who?” Joey asked.

“Anita was a cop! That’s why she had a gun taped on her thigh. That’s why she was at home in a police department,” Lissette roared, “She played out her part to her dying end. Anita thought I was a suspect!”

“What are you freaking out about?” Joey asked, “You know this iced chick?”

“I met her today, Joey. She worked undercover as a maid.”

“You’re kidding? This gal? She was a knockout. Who’d believe her as an ordinary maid?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was a set up.”

“By who?” Joey asked.

“I don’t know. I really don’t. But, whoever did this is looking for the same thing I am.”

Joey looked at her with a furrowed brow. “You need sleep, Zeller,” Joey said, “What do you mean ‘the same thing’ ?”

Joey’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you say so. There’s a bottle in the vic’s purse in the kitchen.”

“You went through her bag without telling me?” Lissette fumed.

Joey squeezed his lips together and shrugged one shoulder, “Okay. I lifted twenty bucks. I’ll put it back.”

Lissette punched Joey so hard in the face he staggered back a few steps.

“Sorry,” he whined, rubbing his jaw.

Lissette marched into the kitchen. She picked up the purse and yanked opened the catch. She rummaged amid the usual handbag clutter, it wasn’t there.

“Joey, where is it?” she yelled. She dumped the purse contents on the table. Joey stood beside her. A blank expression hung on his face.

“I swear it was there. I didn’t take it.”

The room seemed unnaturally chill. Lissette shivered.

“Joey, preserve me. The killer was still here – in this house – when we arrived. And took the bottle after you examined the purse,” Lissette said. She stared Joey in the eye. The cold silence burned.

“The murderer … was still watching us?” Joey wheezed. He sat down missing the chair and fell to the floor.

NAILED Scene Eight – County Hospital. Day Three – 9 AM.

FLASHING HER BADGE at the nurses station, Lissette strode into Earl’s room. Earl lay agitated in his white and gray hospital bed. “Praise be Lissette, I’m so glad to see you. See. They took away all my guards. I’ve been without protection for hours,” Earl said. He was perspiring.

“Yeah. I guess you won’t need protection any more,” Lissette said. She put her badge back in her purse. She flopped it on the edge of Earl’s bed. The black purse looked like a big bug against the white linen.

“Anita Maria Rodriguez del Aguila, the beautiful maid who worked for Glenda Canon,” she said.

Earl stared out the door as if he hoped someone would save him.

“Earl, Anita is dead,” Lissette repeated. Earl began weeping. Lissette hadn’t anticipated this reaction to the grim news. She handed him a white tissue. Lissette waited a moment before proceeding.

“I stopped by the office before I came here. There were two fax reports on my desk. Both from the FBI. One about Eli Temple and another about Anita Rodriguez.”

“So. What do they have to do with me?” Earl asked.

“Earl, you were shot by Eli Temple. He’s confessed. He wanted to kill us both. The tan patrol car was stolen. Temple was an ex-cop gone bad; a scam artist. Anita was an undercover Federal Agent investigating him on charges of racketeering, extortion, and bribery. He was swindling Glenda and her father,” Lissette said.

“He’s in custody of the FBI. He was extradited yesterday for crimes in a different state. He still can’t walk yet,” Lissette said. She chuckled.

“So how could he dust Anita?”

“He didn’t. But, you know that don’t you?” Lissette said. There was hardness in her voice. She was coiling for a strike. Earl flopped his head back on his pillow and blubbered.

“I never bumped anybody off.” He pounded the bed with his fists. Lissette waited for his tantrum to end.

“You gave Glenda my nail polish. Why?” Lissette questioned. Earl hung his head, “It was just a little present. She liked stuff like that. I couldn’t ask you for it. So I took it. I was afraid you’d ask questions and figure things out.”

“Like the fact, you and Glenda were secret lovers or about her forbidden pregnancy?”

“I swear. I didn’t know she was pregnant until the coroner’s report,” Earl whimpered.

“You knew she was being swindled by Temple, but you never said a thing. Earl, you’re man of too many evil secrets,” Lissette said. She clenched her teeth, “Were you in league with Eli Temple?”

“I’m not gonna hurt you, Earl. Calm down. I know you didn’t murder Anita. I don’t know if you murdered Glenda. But, I think you … you Bad Boy, were having worldly delight with both. Am I right … or am I right?”

Earl looked at the wall and nodded his head, “I loved them … both.”

“So answer this question, how did Anita end up with my nail polish? Did you give it to her?”

Earl fiddled nervously with the bed sheet. “How did Anita die?” he asked.

“Earl, I’m sorry. I can’t tell you that. You’re a suspect in the murder of Glenda Canon and her unborn child.”

“Am I under arrest?”

“Nope. You heal here for awhile in the hospital,” Lissette said, “Then you’ll be arrested.”

“Lissette, please don’t leave me … defenseless,” Earl begged. Earl had never called Lissette by her first name before. Earl was scared.

Lissette smiled, “Good-bye, Earl. She’s still out there, isn’t she?” Earl lay his fingers on his mouth. A muffled hiccup betrayed him. Lissette leaned forward and kissed Earl on the forehead. Earl hiccuped again. She slung her purse strap over her shoulder and click-clacked down the hall.

At the entrance, a sexy young creature set foot into the hospital lobby. Unquestionably, she was expert at providing something for the needy. She wore a fitted bomber jacket; unzipped to hang daringly off one shoulder. It was a deliberate unveiling of a red bikini top brimming with summer bronze tan. She stopped and peered at Lissette over her black sunglasses.

Miss Haughty approached. A large brooch was pinned on the girl’s breast pocket. The gaudy jewelry simulated a pink rhinestone cupcake with the letters C. C. in white stones. Lissette was familiar with her fragrant perfume. It was almost intoxicating. The girl sniffed at Lissette as she passed by. This trollop was Earl’s 2-AM visitor at his apartment, Lissette thought, poor Earl, such grouchy indulgences.

NAILED Scene Nine – Homicide Division. Day Three – 2 PM.

She sat at her desk, spikes off, feet dangling. Lissette was going over the reports. She was feeling bad about Anita’s demise.

”Excuse me,” a male voice said, “Are you Lissette?”

Lissette spun around in her chair. There stood a tall, good looking man extending his hand. She reached out her hand and they shook. Nice hands, she thought.

“Most people call me Zeller,” Lissette said.

“May I call you … Lissette?” he asked.

“Well, I suppose it depends upon who you are.” she replied.

Gosh, he’s got a face like a model, Lissette thought. She tried not to appear noticeably excited.

“My name is Boz Bronkam. I’ve been assigned to be your partner,” he said.

“I’ve heard this story before. Let see some I.D. and transfer papers,” Lissette said.

He opened his jacket wide so she saw his 9mm Uzi and shoulder sling underneath. She liked a man who’d show his steel. His blue shirt stretched tight across his torso. Boz had an athletic body shape. He handed Lissette his I.D. and papers nipping her daydream.

“Nice Israeli machine gun. Illegal, isn’t it?” Lissette said.

He grinned, “I’ve got a special anti-terrorist court order.” Lissette examined the documents. She checked his age and marital status. Perfect.

“Everything’s in order,” she said, “Pull up a chair. I need your help.” He seemed pleasantly surprised.

“Already? Great.” He drug a chair over and sat near the metal desk.

“If you call me Lissette, … may I call you Boz.”

“Sure. My real name is Boseman. But you probably saw that on the I.D.,” he said. She missed that. She was too busy checking his “eligibility.”

“Does your name have a story?” Lissette asked.

Ouch, that sounded dopey, she thought.

“It’s pretty simple. I was born in Boseman, Montana, USA.”

“Oh,” Lissette said. She was at a loss for words. She was tempted to say several things – but they were all cruel. There was an awkward silence.

“Well, what kind of help did you need?” Boz asked.

“You and I are working on a murder case,” Lissette stated.

He whistled. “No kidding. Today’s my first day as a detective. This is too good,”

“This is your first day … as a detective?” Lissette repeated. Again she held her tongue from saying several mean things.

“Sorry. I guess, I should’ve told you. I’m just a greenhorn,” Boz said. He stared at his feet and slowly looked up at Lissette.

Lissette smiled at him. There was silence again.

“Well, for a greenhorn, you have great … muscles,” Lissette said. Boz sounded a nervous but hearty laugh.

“Listen, Boz. Let’s take a break. We can walk down to a little Cafe I know. I’ll fill you in about the murder on the way. What do you say?” Boz relaxed his broad shoulders.

“You know, Lissette, I could use something to eat. I missed lunch.” Lissette was in bliss.

The black phone on Lissette’s desk rang. She picked it up and listened. She didn’t say a word and slowly hung up.

“A serial killer is still at large. Whether she killed Earl or not, I don’t know. We’ve got to flush her out.”

“How do you propose to do that?” Boz asked.

“I think I’m next on the hit list. I’m bait.”

Boz leaned his chair back and put his hands behind his head. With admiration he said, “You know, Lissette, you’ve got moxie.”

She smiled at the quaintness of “moxie” and wondered if Boz ever got hiccups. She would miss Earl.

NAILED Scene Ten – Lissette’s Apartment. Day Three – 8 PM.

FOR HIS FIRST DAY ON THE JOB, Boz went the second mile. He took Lissette out for a simple drive-thru dinner; hamburgers, shakes, and fries. She was glad. After hearing about Earl’s death, Lissette didn’t feel like doing much; least of all cooking.

Boz Bronkam

She stood in front of her yellow apartment door and waved good-bye to Boz. I like him, she thought, Boz is unassuming, even a bit old-fashioned. Where’d I put those stupid keys? She rummaged through her purse. Odd. They were here this morning.

Lissette drew the gun from her purse. She kicked off her ubiquitous black spike high heels. Slipping around the side of the building, she saw the window to her bedroom was aglow. She slid to the window’s edge and took a quick glance in. Standing with her back against the wall, she analyzed what she had seen. Nothing was out of place. But the nightstand light was switched on low. I remember turning that off; I’ve had a visitor, she thought. Lissette made a mobile call to Boz’ smartphone. “Boz? Hi, It’s me. Looks like I’ve had an intruder. Can you come back?”

She listened, “Yeah. I won’t go in. Promise. Pick me up at the gas station on the corner. OK. Bye.” She hung up. What a protective hero, she thought.

With her hidden spare key, Lissette and Boz entered the apartment. Both had weapons drawn. They quickly patrol searched the small apartment. Investigating by the book, they found things safe and sound. “You know what really creeps me out, ” Lissette said, “That stupid light was off this morning. Do you believe me?”

“You’re my partner,” Boz said, “So, yep, that light was off when you left.” He went to the light and turned it up bright.

“Anita? Oh, yeah. The FBI agent,” Boz remembered, “So what are you saying?”

Lissette was silent from the horror of how Anita died. She never told Earl or anyone how Anita was butchered.

“Are you okay?” Boz asked.

“No. Not really. Thinking of poor Anita makes me ill.”

“Are you gonna puke?”

“No. I’ll be all right. Just gimme a minute,” Lissette said, “It’s only fear.”

“The guys told me you’re not afraid of anything,” Boz said.

“Well, they’re exaggerating again.”

“How about I make something to drink?” Boz said.

“Go ahead. I’m thinking.”

“Wouldn’t want to interrupt that,” Boz said.

“Now you’re being cruel,” Lissette said. She smiled.

“Sorry. I’m not normally that way. I guess you bring out the worst in me,” Boz said.

“Well, you’re not the first to say that,” Lissette said thinking of Earl. Lissette sat on the bed as Boz puttered in the kitchen.

“Anita had a light bulb blow up when she switched it on. The glass shards were in the carpet in her bedroom. She then struggled in the dark to get a gun in the bathroom. There was a lot of blood in there. She lost that battle. She was hauled back into her bedroom where she was wasted. The murderer was still in the house when we arrived. We just didn’t find out soon enough,” Lissette said.

“And you think the killer’s a woman? How come?” Boz said.

“Instinct. Woman’s intuition,” Lissette said. She stood and stretched. “And because of how she hacked the victim’s body. A man wouldn’t mutilate the same way. A jealous hellcat was the murderer.”

On a hunch, Lissette glided into the bathroom and turned on the light. The light blinked and startled her. She swung the medicine cabinet open. There on the second shelf sat a small bottle with “CC” written on the side in metallic green nail polish.

Lissette took it gently by the cap and closed the mirrored cabinet door. My nail polish! she thought. She changed her eye focus from the small bottle to the mirror. In back of Lissette, a shape behind the frosted glass shower door slid it noiselessly open. Lissette stared down both barrels of a smooth-bore, sawed-off shotgun. She dove for the floor. The weapon roared – scattering shot in a wide pattern. Dust and debris went flying. Lissette heard Boz scramble in the kitchen.

“You’re under arrest,” the unarmed Lissette shouted. She jumped grabbing the barrels of the cut-off side-by-side. Lissette twisted the shotgun toward the ceiling. It discharged again powdering the room with chalky wallboard. Lissette knuckle-punched her attacker twice in the windpipe. The woman staggered back releasing the gun. Lissette decked her in the head once more for good measure with the gun butt. The “alleged perpetrator” was down and out for the count.

“Who?! Who is this spitfire?” Boz shouted. He stared in the dusty tub.

“She – this spitfire – has the right to remain silent,” Lissette said, “Give me a minute – to catch my breath.” Lissette bent over with one hand on her knee waiting for her body to stabilize.

“Her name’s Cupcake, CC.” Lissette wheezed picking up the nail-polish bottle and showing the initials, “Gloria must have written this clue before she died.”

Lissette dropped the scattergun on the cluttered floor.

“Every murder connected with my old partner Earl, but he didn’t do it.” Lissette was silent.

Boz and Lissette stood vacantly staring at the unconscious young woman sprawled in the dusty tub.

Boz raised an eyebrow, “Are you all right?” He smiled. She gave him a friendly hug.

I’m not cruel any more. I can control my anger. And I’m not afraid. I’ll never wear my black stiletto high-heels again. No bewitchments. No seductions. A slight curve became visible at her mouth’s corner. She eyed Boz. He relaxed leaning against the wall and the dwindling light from the window played across his face.

Her natural, beautiful self sparkled. Gratitude permeated the room. The case was finally solved and over – with a brighter, new future beginning.

Still holding the 911 call to her ear, she stepped close to Boz – and slowly reached to touch his hand. It was a bold move. He gazed at her soft touch and wrapped her hand tenderly in his. “You’re not so tough,” he said.

She nodded silently, shut her eyes – unbolted her fresh heart – and leaned into a warm but not-so-cruel kiss.

THE END

Steve is the creative director and author of Nailed. For usage permissions or purchase of creative rights, please contact:

Because you’re beautiful, you make *natural* boys feel weak. They hate feeling weak. So, they hate your body. (Really. Lust is a form of hate). Because you’re intelligent, you make *natural* boys feel mental inferiority. They hate feeling inferior. So, they hate your mind. (So you dumb down). You may think you’ll be forever lonely. You’re an amazing person. Many men qualify to be worthy of you. They’re as rare a gem as you are. One in a thousand.

Because you’re beautiful, you make *natural* boys feel weak. They hate feeling weak. So, they hate your body. (Really. Lust is a form of hate). Because you’re intelligent, you make *natural* boys feel mental inferiority. They hate feeling inferior. So, they hate your mind. (So you dumb down). You may think you’ll be forever lonely. You’re an amazing person. Many men qualify to be worthy of you. They’re as rare a gem as you are. One in a thousand.

Because you’re beautiful, you make *natural* boys feel weak. They hate feeling weak. So, they hate your body. (Really. Lust is a form of hate). Because you’re intelligent, you make *natural* boys feel mental inferiority. They hate feeling inferior. So, they hate your mind. (So you dumb down). You may think you’ll be forever lonely. You’re an amazing person. Many men qualify to be worthy of you. They’re as rare a gem as you are. One in a thousand.

Because you’re beautiful, you make *natural* boys feel weak. They hate feeling weak. So, they hate your body. (Really. Lust is a form of hate). Because you’re intelligent, you make *natural* boys feel mental inferiority. They hate feeling inferior. So, they hate your mind. (So you dumb down). You may think you’ll be forever lonely. You’re an amazing person. Many men qualify to be worthy of you. They’re as rare a gem as you are. One in a thousand.

Because you’re beautiful, you make *natural* boys feel weak. They hate feeling weak. So, they hate your body. (Really. Lust is a form of hate). Because you’re intelligent, you make *natural* boys feel mental inferiority. They hate feeling inferior. So, they hate your mind. (So you dumb down). You may think you’ll be forever lonely. You’re an amazing person. Many men qualify to be worthy of you. They’re as rare a gem as you are. One in a thousand.

Because you’re beautiful, you make *natural* boys feel weak. They hate feeling weak. So, they hate your body. (Really. Lust is a form of hate). Because you’re intelligent, you make *natural* boys feel mental inferiority. They hate feeling inferior. So, they hate your mind. (So you dumb down). You may think you’ll be forever lonely. You’re an amazing person. Many men qualify to be worthy of you. They’re as rare a gem as you are. One in a thousand.

Because you’re beautiful, you make *natural* boys feel weak. They hate feeling weak. So, they hate your body. (Really. Lust is a form of hate). Because you’re intelligent, you make *natural* boys feel mental inferiority. They hate feeling inferior. So, they hate your mind. (So you dumb down). You may think you’ll be forever lonely. You’re an amazing person. Many men qualify to be worthy of you. They’re as rare a gem as you are. One in a thousand.

Because you’re beautiful, you make *natural* boys feel weak. They hate feeling weak. So, they hate your body. (Really. Lust is a form of hate). Because you’re intelligent, you make *natural* boys feel mental inferiority. They hate feeling inferior. So, they hate your mind. (So you dumb down). You may think you’ll be forever lonely. You’re an amazing person. Many men qualify to be worthy of you. They’re as rare a gem as you are. One in a thousand.